His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those circumstances I should be long about it. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away.
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